


A Four Year Anniversary

by calmlikesurrender



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Nervous Niall with a ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:33:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calmlikesurrender/pseuds/calmlikesurrender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall's nervous and stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Four Year Anniversary

Niall’s nervous.

            Which- in and of itself- should be ridiculous. He doesn’t get nervous. Not for meetings with management. Or award shows. On stage. Never.

            Except right now, sitting on the edge of his and Harry’s bed in his suit and tie, their room this muted gold color, cast in shadows by a dozen candles, waiting for Harry to come home  _any minute- any minute now_.

            God, he’s so fucking nervous.

            And there’s no reason to be. He’s so lucky, honestly, he has the most amazing boyfriend in the world and he knows that, he just- Well, sometimes he’s not so sure if Harry thinks the same way about him.

            Because, well, Niall was sort of  _new_  when he and Harry met. Not to girls, but to other stuff. Like the sort of stuff that matters when you’re buzzed from a wild show, craving a little skin on skin release, and you reach down into someone’s jeans and there’s suddenly so much more to work with.

            They’d come so far since that one night.

            From a couple of sloppy hand jobs to a four-year anniversary.

           Harry had insisted he didn’t want anything, regardless, there was a little pile of misshaped boxes on the nightstand. All wrapped pretty sloppily, but it was the best Niall could do with his hands trembling and sweaty.

            Nestled under the stack is a little box, though. Smaller than all of the others. And just thinking about it is enough to have Niall’s heart pounding.

            He paces restlessly, waiting to hear the door open downstairs, trying to go over the words again in his head like he’d practiced with Liam for weeks.

            “Harry, I love you. Well, erm, you know that. I just- You know…”

            He curses himself and starts again, loosening his tie and taking slow, deep breaths.

            “I know we never talked about this, but I want you to know. You’re the only reason I… You’re basically all the good I’ve ever…”

            He almost stops short, but he remembers Liam in the back of his mind. All level-headed and supportive like always. How he’d prompted him gently.

            “Harry,” he tries again, slower, less of a speech, more of a…confession?, “Harry, I love you. I’m  _in_  love with you.”

            He pauses to laugh, and it sounds slightly manic, but his heart beat isn’t hammering anymore. He’s picturing Harry there in front of him, that stupid smile that digs into his dimples, maybe he’ll have his hands on Niall hips.

            “I want to do this,” Niall says, “I want it to be  _us_ , like forever. Harry, I want to marry you.”

            He watches the pile where the box is and feels some of the weight on his chest ease. It just seems simpler all of a sudden.

            Still, when he hears the faint sound of the front door opening, he crosses his fingers and mutters a little prayer. Just in case.

            Harry calls his name, and he shouts back that he’s in their room. There’s a question in Harry’s voice when he responds, but Niall can hear his steps on the stairs anyway.

            He takes three deep breaths and stands up, lifting the top gift from the stack and facing the door with his heart in his throat, but this rush of  _warmth_ coursing down his spine, this wild courage pulsing and pumping out behind his ribs. 


End file.
